


The Secret Lives of Potions Masters

by Emlyn2



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emlyn2/pseuds/Emlyn2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone gets hurt. Dumbledore has to send Hermione for help from an unexpected place. (HP) Takes place in AU sixth year, contains spoilers of OOTP. (CSI) Set before season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hearth

"Another day over, eh, Fawkes?" said Professor Dumbledore scratching the phoenix lightly on the head, "not molting yet are you? Ah well, all things in time, I suppose." The Professor made his way over to a chair by the fireplace. Waiting on a table by the seat, as always, was a freshly made mug of hot cocoa.

"Thank you," Albus said to no one in particular, after all you never knew who was listening, and it never hurt to be polite. He sat in his chair, staring at the fire burning in the hearth, quietly thinking.

Thus far the year was progressing uneventfully. There had been no attacks, no apparent movement at all from Voldermort, not since the Ministry of Magic had finally capitulated and announced his return. That revelation, for so it seemed to many, was not sitting well with the Wizarding world, nor with the students of Hogwarts, some of whom were preparing to take their places in that world. Instead of compelling them to forget past grievances and work together, the threat of the coming was instead splintering them further apart.

'Still it's a new year,' Dumbledore thought to himself, 'full of opportunities to convince them to trust each other. No matter what the future holds, without trust, all ventures are guaranteed to fail.'

"Headmaster!" a voice cried out, jarring Dumbledore out of his ruminations.

"Headmaster!" the voice cried again, urgently, as Madame Pomfrey's head appeared in the fireplace.

"Good evening, Madame Pomfrey, I trust…" Professor Dumbledore began, but could not continue further.

"You must come to the hospital wing! Immediately!" Madame Pomfrey spoke again, and then vanished abruptly, leaving the hearth empty once more.

As Professor Dumbledore rushed out of his office he felt a chill steal over him, something had gone wrong.


	2. First, Do No Harm

The lamps were flickering he entered the hospital wing. He could see Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall were huddled by the only occupied bed. Dumbledore froze in mid step, as if hit by some hex, when he realized who was lying there.

"How long has he been like this?" Dumbledore asked hoarsely, moving up to take his place beside the bed.

"A few hours or more," answered Madame Pomfrey, "I don't know, I can't tell. Miss Granger found him, down by the kitchens. We don't know how he got there," she continued, gesticulating helplessly.

Professor McGonagall spoke, in a hushed tone, "he looks as though he's been attacked by some wild animal ..." she trailed off into silence.

"He was," said Madame Pomfrey. She pulled back the bed sheets to show the worst of the damage. "He's lost a great deal of blood, and the bites... it carried some sort of poison. Fever has set in... Albus, I'm sorry, it's only a matter of time. I think... the teeth and claw marks are consistent with that of a Gryphon. No one has ever survived."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes at the news and put a hand over her heart as a shudder passed through her. "Oh, Lord," she whispered. She opened her eyes and looked down at the patient, who lay there shivering and oblivious, gripped in the throes of illness. "Oh, Albus," she said her voice cracking with emotion, as the tears began to gather in Professor Dumbledore's eyes.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore sighed, "I've failed you, yet again."

"No, Albus," interrupted Professor McGonagall, attempting to comfort him, to absolve him, "we all know the risks, he knew..."

"That his life was at stake, while we sat in safety," Dumbledore continued harshly, "after years of torture at the hands of Voldemort..." both Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey winced at the mention of that name, while Dumbledore continued talking. "that he was expendable when compared with the others."

"It was his decision," said Professor McGonagall, "a decision we've all made, to stand against You-Know-Who."

Dumbledore looked again at the man bleeding and shivering before him while Madame Pomfrey circled the bed doing what little she could to keep him alive.

"At eighteen," Dumbledore sighed, his anger spent, "Did he really know what the consequences would be? What the cost would come to? Did he really have a choice?"

"Did you?" questioned Professor McGonagall.

"No," Headmaster Dumbledore answered her. He took a seat by the bed and wiped a tear away, "to give Severus a chance to redeem himself, in my eyes if not his own ... The opportunity to have a spy in Voldemort's court was to rare, to necessary not to exploit."

Dumbledore's right hand formed into a fist at his next words, "the chance that Voldemort could be thwarted in even the slightest way ..." he trailed off, his hand flattening again. "But now..." Dumbledore continued, raising his hand and gesturing towards the bed were Professor Snape lay dying, "is this end really justified?"

A tired silence descended on the room.

"Poppy," Dumbledore spoke again at last, a tiny twinkle returning to his eyes, "please go to my office and collect Fawkes, his tears might be able to do some good."

"Headmaster," Madame Pomfrey stammered, "it won't cure him."

"Thank you, Poppy, I am aware of that," Dumbledore said, permitting himself a small smile before continuing, "however, it will buy us time to find something that can."

Madame Pomfrey hurried out of the hospital wing, relieved at last to be doing something constructive.

"Minerva," Dumbledore spoke again," would you please fetch Miss Granger. I need her to run an errand for me. If possible, ask her not to dress in her school uniform."

"Now? Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked incredulously.

"Yes, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, "it is of the utmost importance."

Professor McGonagall made her way over to the open door, pausing on the threshold. She glanced back towards Dumbledore and asked, "What will you do?"

Dumbledore answered, "send for help, what choice do I have? There is no alternative."

"What if he won't come?" Minerva questioned again, unsure.

"He has to." Dumbledore replied.

With that Professor McGonagall continued through the door into the brightly lit hall. As her eyes adjusted, she continued making her way through the school to the Gryffindor common room to deliver the summons. Back in the hospital wing, Dumbledore sat clasping Severus' hand in his own. He whispered through his tears, "He has to."


	3. Out Of The Frying Pan

"But why does it have to be me?" Hermione asked her friends mournfully as they made their way down to the hospital wing. It was mid-morning and the three sixth year Gryfindors were looking decidedly worse for wear. Harry and Ron walked on either side of Hermione, paranoid and scanning the halls, their hands unconsciously drifting down to their wands time and again. It had been a bad night, for all of them.

"You sounded a bit like Neville there, Mione." Ron put forth, in an attempt to lighten the mood. In response Hermione threw him an arch look.

"Because," said Harry, "Professor Dumbledore trusts you."

"Because," Ron interrupted, "you know about the Order," Ron caught Hermione's eye, "and Snape," he reminded. The trio paused on the landing and waited for the stairs to shift in their direction.

"Because," continued Harry, "your parents are muggles and you should be able to blend in where you're sent."

"Wherever it is," Ron added.

"What do my parents have to do with anything?" Hermione questioned.

"Think about it, Mione," Harry answered, "Dumbledore specifically said not to wear your uniform … because it would stand out."

"And," Hermione reasoned, "the only place a Hogwarts uniform would look out of place is in the mundane world." The stairs moved into place, and Hermione, Ron and Harry continued walking.

"It could be anywhere," said Ron, "just think, Mione, if it takes a while, you might get to skip some of your classes."

At these words Harry began to shake his head emphatically, silently mouthing 'No, No' repeatedly trying to get Ron's attention and stop him from going down that path.

Hermione snapped out of her daze. "Oh god, Ron you're right," Hermione exclaimed, "I might be gone for days, even weeks. I'm going to fall behind. What if you learn something really advanced while I'm gone? I'll never catch up," She wailed.

"Breathe, Hermione, just breathe," said Harry rubbing her back, trying to calm her down. "Nice one, mate," Harry said to Ron.

"Well, most people would think it was a good thing," Ron replied petulantly.

Harry just rolled his eyes.

By now, Hermione was feeling very out of sorts, feeling hungry on top of everything probably wasn't helping. She hadn't been able to stomach much at breakfast and she had missed dinner the night before. Hermione had elected instead to work ahead for her Arithmancy class. Which is why, a few hours later, she ended up on her way down to the kitchens, for a snack, when she stumbled over... Hermione slowed, shuddering visibly.

"Mione," Harry asked, "what is it?"

"It's just that image," Hermione replied, "seeing him, lying there … broken, helpless. I don't think I can ever forget it."

"Well," Ron said, "I for one think it couldn't have happened to a more deserving person, 'cept maybe Malfoy."

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione said, placing her hand on his arm and pulling so they were face to face, "don't say that, ever. You didn't see him," she continued walking, "you can't know."

The lamps on the walls were flickering slightly, and the occupants of the paintings they passed all seemed incredibly grim. "What was Snape doing there anyway?" Ron grumbled loudly. "Hmm!" said a painting as the passed.

"Sorry, ma'm," said Harry giving Ron a look.

Ron, looking sheepish, continued in a quieter tone, "I mean, is there some wild animal running lose in the school?" Ron was suddenly struck by a horrifying thought, "Say, you don't think Hagrid had something to do with it, Malfoy'll have a field day if he did."

"I don't think so," Hermione said slowly, forcing herself to think back and remember, "there wasn't that much blood, not on the floor, and there wasn't any damage to the hallway, just to Professor Snape."

Ron spoke while shrugging his shoulders, "Hagrid's in the clear then."

"Voldemort," announced Harry, "Snape must have been on an errand or something for Voldemort, and this was the result. I mean, I didn't _see_ anything..." Harry hunched his shoulders, folding in on himself somewhat, "but, then, I haven't... not for a while."

"Poor bastard," said Ron.

As they reached the infirmary door, Hermione said, in a small voice, "I don't want to go. What if something happens while I'm gone?" Tears began to form in her eyes, "If something happened to you both and I wasn't there..." she trailed off, crying openly.

"Shhh, Mione, shhhh," Harry said, taking Hermione in a gentle hug, gesturing for Ron to do the same; which he did, albeit awkwardly, hugging both Hermione and Harry at the same time. "Shhh, " Harry continued, "nothing's going to happen, Mione, I promise. Ron and I both promise, we'll be safe, and so will you."

"Besides," said Ron, breaking the hug, "you'll probably be back by tomorrow, forget what I said, Professor Dumbledore knows how important your classes are to you," he said teasingly, with a smile.

"Oh, Ron." Hermione said sniffing slightly as she smacked him lightly on the shoulder, tears forgotten for the moment.

The door opened behind them and, looking worn, Professor Dumbledore stepped through, closing it gently behind him. "Ah, Miss Granger, Hermione," Professor Dumbledore corrected, "come, we have much to discuss. Good morning, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley." With a hand resting on her shoulder, Professor Dumbledore steered Hermione down the hallway, away from Harry, Ron, and any other prying ears who happened to be nearby.

"You get the feeling he didn't want us to know about this?" Ron asked, gesturing towards the retreating figures. He continued unanswered, "I feel a bit left out." Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Ron and Harry as she and Professor Dumbledore turned a corner, and, with a quick wave from Harry, they vanished from her sight.

"Hey," said Ron hopefully, another idea having taken hold, "do you think if Mione's responsible for saving Snape's life, he'll stop taking points off Gryffindor? That would be bloody brilliant."

"That'll be the day, Ron," said Harry. With a swift glance at the closed door behind them, the boys began to make their way back to the Gryffindor common, praying they would not encounter Mrs. Norris on their way.

"Well," continued Ron, "it's worth a try isn't it?"

Smiling outwardly at the antics of his friend, Harry said, "Come on Ron," deep inside though, Harry was worried, and not just about Hermione.


	4. Giving The Truth Scope

After Dumbledore had informed Hermione of the severity of Professor Snape's injuries, they both fell into silence as they navigated the darkened halls of Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was organizing his thoughts for the conversation ahead, while Hermione was lost in hers. Hermione was so preoccupied, she barely noticed where Professor Dumbledore was leading her.

'Professor Snape can't die. The Order can't afford to lose anymore people, especially not Snape. He's already suffered so much in the service of the Order. Dark mark aside, most of Snape's suffering remained unknown, but did the adults really expect the younger generation to believe Voldemort wasn't hurting Snape every time he was called. This just proves it once and for all,' fumed Hermione silently, 'Snape had risked his life for them, for Harry. I have to do everything I can to save Snape. We need him. No matter how much Harry and Ron would like to deny it, Snape is important.' Hermione's thoughts at last revealed their true bent. 'If only we had thought of him last year, if only we had trusted him... Sirius might still be alive.'

"Ahem, Miss Granger," Dumbledore's voice penetrated the din of her mind. Hermione blushed slightly when she realized they had reached the door to the Professor's office, she wondered how long they had been standing there. "Mint humbug," Professor Dumbledore announced as his current password. The wall began to slide away revealing a hidden staircase behind it. "Please, after you, Hermione," offered Dumbledore politely. Hermione stepped forward through the opening and on to the stairs, and Dumbledore followed. As they began their ascent, the wall closed up behind them.

"Please," Headmaster Dumbledore said again, "have a seat," gesturing towards a chair by his desk. Hermione sat, unwillingly, on the very edge of the seat, both feet planted firmly on the ground and looked around. The majority of the paintings were empty she realized, and quite a few were covered, even Fawkes' perch was abandoned.

'It's as if they realized he needed privacy,' Hermione thought, though she was surprised that they'd given it, the paintings at Hogwarts had developed a reputation for being nosy. Dumbledore then walked around behind his desk, and opening one of the bottom drawers, he gingerly removed a sealed envelope which he then placed on top of his desk.

"Hermione," he spoke as he made his way over to a small cupboard, "as both a teacher and Headmaster here at Hogwarts, it has been my pleasure to encounter some of the finest minds and talents present in the wizarding world, yours included my dear." Dumbledore bestowed a small smile in Hermione's direction before resuming his perusal of the objects contained in the cupboard. Hermione blushed in reaction to such praise from a wizard she greatly admired, glad that Harry and Ron weren't present as they'd never stop teasing her about it. Dumbledore then removed two artifacts, and closing the cupboard, he placed them on the desk next to the envelope.

As Professor Dumbledore began his story, Hermione sat further back in her chair. Dumbledore however remained standing, occasionally pacing the breadth of his office, a sure sign of inner turmoil. "There was one student here, almost fifteen years ago now," Dumbledore stopped talking and shook his head slightly at the passage of time.

Hermione did a quick calculation in her head, 'he would be twenty six now, whoever it is.'

Dumbledore continued, "this student showed impressive intelligence, talent and power, greater than my own or Voldemort's, or even the two combined. As Mr. Ollivander is so fond of saying, we could expect great things from this boy."

Dumbledore voice grew grave as he continued, "It was later discovered that he had not come by the majority of his magic naturally, through no fault of his own, I assure you. He had had a difficult time here and at the end of his first year he witnessed the death of his parents and his as yet unborn brother. These events took place shortly after his eleventh birthday. Voldemort was later found to be responsible. Unfortunately, several days passed before the tragedy came to light. Days he had been forced to spend in an abandoned house with the corpses of his parents," Dumbledore said bluntly, trying to hammer the point home.

"Oh, God," said Hermione, bile rising in her throat at the thought, she swallowed it down with a grimace. "How could that have happened?" Hermione questioned.

"It was a hectic and exciting time," Dumbledore replied, sighing, "remember our history, Miss Granger, think back," he instructed, "fifteen years ago, you would have been one year old, as would Mr. Weasley, as would Mr. Potter …" he trailed off.

"Harry," Hermione thought, suddenly realizing what Dumbledore was referring to, "you mean..." she asked.

"That very night," said Professor Dumbledore, sighing again. "Very few people know the specifics pertaining to that night and what happened after Voldemort encountered Harry. I am not one of them," Dumbledore said forestalling further questions from Hermione.

"As a result," Dumbledore said returning to the story at hand, "that pupil began to form an intense dislike towards magic of all kinds, both evil and good. This hatred for all things magical was compounded by the increasing difficulties the child was facing here at school."

"Why didn't anyone do anything?" queried Hermione feeling a pang of sympathy for the unnamed boy. Hermione, too, felt out of place at Hogwarts from time to time. Remembering her first year there, before the troll encounter and her friendship with Ron and Harry, she felt a stirring of empathy as well, thinking, 'how horrible it would be to go through seven years friendless and alone.'

"Believe me, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore interrupting her reflections, "it was only through the dedication and perseverance of one professor that the child managed to graduate at all."

"Professor Snape?" Hermione guessed, thinking to herself the boy must have been Slytherin to earn Snape's help.

"Yes," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye as he remembered times past, "though not without bloodshed and bruised egos, I assure you."

Dumbledore's expression turned serious once more. "It was after his graduation ceremony that he approached me with a request," another twinkle formed and passed from Dumbledore's eyes as he continued, "more of a demand really. He informed me that he had made his decision, he was finished with magic and wanted out of the wizarding world."

Hermione gasped quietly at this twist in the tale, 'how horrible his life must have become to run so far in an attempt to escape it.'

Dumbledore continued unheeding of the interruption, "He wanted to live out the rest of his days as a muggle, attending college, choosing a career, turning his back to our entire existence. However," Professor Dumbledore shrugged his shoulders, "to do so he needed my help; to get established in their world, and though I was reluctant, I gave it. A few days later he was gone and, to my knowledge he has never returned. I gave my word that I would protect his identity, should Voldemort return or a new evil rise, he would be left out of it."

Dumbledore squared his shoulders, "I am in the process of breaking that oath, and though it troubles me, I hold that it must be done for the greater good. You must understand Miss Granger, you cannot tell anyone, you cannot repeat a word of this to any of your friends. The content of this conversation, of you mission, must remain forever undisclosed, for safety's sake."

"Of course, Professor," said Hermione, slightly miffed that Dumbledore would suspect her of gossiping. 'Still,' she thought, 'it will be hard not share this with Harry, Ron and Ginny. I hope they understand."

Dumbledore dipped a quill into the inkwell on his desk and began to write something on a spare piece of parchment. "Do not read this until you've arrived," he instructed, handing her the parchment. "He will require persuading, Hermione, he will not come easily. This," Dumbledore pointed to the envelope, "contains a letter from me, describing the situation, in case he doesn't believe you; only use it as a last resort." Hermione picked up the letter, folded it and placed it in the pocket of her jeans next to the parchment. "This," Professor Dumbledore picked up a shiny metal hair pin and positioned it carefully in her hair, "is your key back to Hogwarts, you must be in physical contact with him when you touch the butterfly's wing in order to carry you both." Dumbledore gestured towards to final item he had removed from the cupboard.

Hermione looked closely at it's familiar shape, "a pencil sharpener?" she asked. "Your port key," Dumbledore replied, "touch the blade carefully, it is still quite sharp."

"Oh, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said, stopping her as she reached for the pencil sharpener, "you might also find this useful." At that he reached into the left hand pocket of his robe and pulled out a chain, at the bottom of which hung a time turner. "You never know," Dumbledore said as he put the necklace over her head, "when you will need a little more time," he finished with a half smile. "Good Luck," he said. Hermione reached again for the sharpener, closing her eyes when she felt the now familiar tug at her belly button. She vanished from Dumbledore's office leaving a very worried headmaster in her wake.

Hermione opened her eyes and stepped back in shock. She turned full circle, unaware of how foolish she might look, in an attempt to get her bearings and take in her new surroundings.

'The sights, the sounds, ye gods, even the temperature.' Hermione reached into her right hand pocket and pulled out the parchment Professor Dumbledore had given her, at last reading the two words written there. "You know," Hermione grumbled out loud, while taking a decisive step towards the building in front of her, "he could have been a bit more forthcoming."


End file.
